


If a driver and blade were at the top of the First Low Orbit Station Rhadamanthus and the blade killed their driver with a rock, would that be messed up or what?

by tbat



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, mostly just pining on pandy's part sorry lads, no really you gotta be on like five layers of headcanon irony for this one, using extremely abstract blade headcanons to write stupid meta-fics about otp cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbat/pseuds/tbat
Summary: And then, sometimes, so rarely and so fleetingly that most Blades don't even realize it's happened, something else will emerge. Garbled, semi-coherent phrases, ideas, even images of somewhere much unlike Alrest. The barest remnants of a world long destroyed, beyond the understanding of all except for one lonely, broken man, isolated in a lofty prison of his own creation.If a Blade were to grasp hold of the alien information invading their minds and fully understand it, they would gain knowledge few on Alrest could ever dream of. They would attain the wisdom of a civilization whose technology not even Mor Ardain could approach.Such an intrusive thought had just struck Pandoria as she idly sat in Torigoth's Coedwig Inn, head propping up her arm as it rested on a table in the corner of a small dining area.
Relationships: Zeke von Genbu/Saika | Pandoria
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	If a driver and blade were at the top of the First Low Orbit Station Rhadamanthus and the blade killed their driver with a rock, would that be messed up or what?

**Author's Note:**

> the idea that blades could maybe have tiny repressed snippets of memory about earth or its culture is an interesting headcanon that you could go in lots of different directions in
> 
> i have decided to go in an extremely stupid direction, happy anniversary to xenoblade chronicles 2 (2017) exclusively on nintendo switch

Most Blades were accustomed to certain corners of their mind being somewhat...fragmentary. From the moment they are awakened, reborn into the world with little more than a name, a weapon, and- they can only hope- a trustworthy companion in their new life, a Blade learns to accept that there are things they know without really understanding  _why_ they know it. Skills, fighting styles, even their own likes and dislikes, all burnt into their subconscious as though implanted there by an outside force. Their identity is set for them before they're even aware they  _have_ an identity.

From time to time, some Blades even experience a faint, inexplicable stirring in their mind when they look upon things they could swear they've never seen before, and yet carry a strangely familiar air. The sight of a particular town. An encounter with a stranger who looks upon them with a distant warmth, as one might look at an estranged family member. Even the taste and scent of a meal that ends up more to their taste than they expected. The faintest flicker of a long-lost memory, the thinnest strand of the tapestry of a forgotten life, just out of reach.

And then, sometimes, so rarely and so fleetingly that most Blades don't even realize it's happened, something  _else_ will emerge. Garbled, semi-coherent phrases, ideas, even images of somewhere much unlike Alrest. The barest remnants of a world long destroyed, beyond the understanding of all except for one lonely, broken man, isolated in a lofty prison of his own creation.

If a Blade were to grasp hold of the alien information invading their minds and fully understand it, they would gain knowledge few on Alrest could ever dream of. They would attain the wisdom of a civilization whose technology not even Mor Ardain could approach.

Such an intrusive thought had just struck Pandoria as she idly sat in Torigoth's Coedwig Inn, head propping up her arm as it rested on a table in the corner of a small dining area.

"Man, it'd be messed up if we booked a room with two beds and we only got one bed, huh?"

Zeke stopped fiddling with one of the belts wrapped tightly around his wrist and looked up at her with a baffled squint.

"Eh?"

Pandoria paused, equally as baffled by her own words. Where had that even come from? One minute she was thinking about how much she was looking forward to her well-earned dinner, the next she was contemplating the hypothetical poor management of a well-established inn. It had barely even felt like  _she_ was the one who'd thought it, like someone had just dropped the thought into her brain like a stone in a lake, and left her to deal with the ripples. 

And now Zeke was looking at her with a kind of confused expectation, leaning forward in his chair like he was desperate for her to elaborate. With barely any time to even properly think through how  _she_ felt about this...unusual new topic of hers, Pandoria decided the best course of action was to think out loud until she found an opinion on it that sort of made sense.

"I mean, it'd be super awkward, right? Like, oh no, no way we're sharing a bed, and then we'd start arguing about who gets to use the bed, and then  _you'd_ be acting all noble and chivalrous." Her voice deepened and her hand hovered in front of her left eye, fingers splayed outwards. "Oh Pandy, I could never make a fair and super hot maiden such as you sleep upon the cold, hard floor! I, The Dorkenator, will take your place-"

"Oi! No sullying my titles! Or my cool poses!  _Or_ my chivalry!" Zeke interjected in outrage.

"And then I'd be like, oh no, I could  _never_ make you do that, cause, you know, I don't need to hear you complaining about your back pain like an old man the next day," Pandoria continued, happily refusing to dignify Zeke's yelps of protest with a response. "And  _then_ we'd just end up having no choice but to share anyway, and it'd be all weird and awkward and we'd be trying to stay on opposite sides of the bed, but it'd be too small, and you'd probably roll outta the bed and break something, like the desk, or the lamp, or your shoulder..."

"I drank my milk every single day back in the palace, thank you very much! Even the Aegis herself couldn't break these bones of steel," Zeke boasted. He gave his shoulder a confident whack before immediately screwing his face up in pain. He rubbed his arm tenderly, still wincing as he spoke. "Where's all this coming from, anyway? We've stayed at plenty of inns before and it's always gone off without a hitch. Well, other than all those times we've had to escape out a window, but those hardly count."

Pandoria hummed, tilting her head in thought.

"I dunno. It just popped into my head, y'know? Like, imagine if that actually happened. It'd be the _worst_."

"Yes, it would be quite the predicament," Zeke said, nodding gravely in a manner that suggested he was taking this as a serious philosophical dilemma. "A single bed can barely handle the Zekenator as is. Add you to the mix and, well, it'd be a tight squeeze."

"Oh, totally. We'd have to get all close together and stuff, like we were...cuddling..." Pandoria said, her voice drifting far, far away, along with her thoughts. The last few words came out in a low whisper, said more to herself than to Zeke.

She'd  _wanted_ that to sound like a terrible situation for them to be in. The kind of thing where they'd both say "damn, that'd be awful, huh?" and share a little laugh at the wacky scenario that had popped into her head, and then maybe Zeke would ask her, with the utmost gravitas, if she thought  _two_ eyepatches would be cooler than one. Not an eyepatch for both eyes, of course. That'd be ridiculous. Just a simple, humble second eyepatch layered on top of the first one, to give the impression that the Eye of Shining Justice needed multiple seals to contain its raw power. And then she'd call him a dumbass, because he was, and he'd complain and whine because he was in denial, and that'd be that and they'd move on.

Except now she'd kind of talked herself into thinking that kind of situation would be Pretty Great, Actually. Just her, her Prince, and a solid eight hours block of snuggling time. The far too vivid image of the both of them slumbering peacefully in each other's arms, his tight embrace the only reassuring constant in their life of constant change and upheaval, started pouring into her mind like a fierce stream, and she had no hopes of shutting the floodgates in time.

That didn't mean she couldn't  _try_ , though, tossing rationalizations and reassurances into her stream of consciousness like a shoddy, ineffectual dam.

Like, come on, what sort of inn would make that big a mistake? Least of all an inn like the Coedwig, which, as far as she knew, was pretty reputable. Hell, compared to some of the shady "inns" they'd been forced to seek refuge in during their travels, where the beds had basically amounted to some mattress-shaped piles of mould, this place was downright palatial.

It'd never happen. Not in a place like this.

And even if it  _did_ , it's not like any of the unwelcome, albeit not...unpleasant images floating through her head would happen. Zeke'd just dig his heels in until she let him have his little Ally To All Bladies moment and sleep on the floor. No awkward bedsharing, no cuddling up, absolutely  _none_ of the tender moonlit confessions in each others arms that were being tacked on to this ridiculous hypothetical, prompting a few curses at her subconscious.

It would  _never_ happen.

She told him as much before they could take this topic any further, and he quite agreed. With nowhere left to go and the very possibility of it dismissed, the subject was dropped. Awkward silence reigned for all of ten seconds before Zeke, with zero prompting, took a controversial stance and claimed a burger was a sandwich. With no choice but to argue this point to the death, Pandoria launched into a full point-by-point breakdown of what defined a burger, because she'd be damned if he was going to ruin her dinner for her when it finally arrived with philosophical doubts about its labelling.

The strange little side-alley her mind had led her down was swiftly ducked back out of. That bizarre thought, as quickly as it came, was banished from her mind.

Except...maybe she'd suggest they try pushing their beds together tonight. As training, obviously. Just in case the worst should happen.

And for that one singular moment, the legacy of a long-forgotten culture lived on.

**Author's Note:**

> also real talk i'm totally gonna end up writing some Real oops only one bed trash eventually, i'm not above the gutter and i never will be


End file.
